


A matter of practice

by Tethys_resort



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Explosions, M/M, Ost-in-Edhil, Poor Life Choices, Science Experiments, hair cuts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 04:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21173345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tethys_resort/pseuds/Tethys_resort
Summary: Two stories of accidents and haircuts.  And accidental haircuts.





	A matter of practice

**Author's Note:**

> trigger warnings: explosions, accidents and emotional damage. As always, please contact me if you have questions.

“Cousin! You should see our latest experiments! I have been working on methods of creating colored lights that could be used as signals.” Celebrimbor had appeared as they ate lunch in their inn and invited them to a test of the latest project. 

Celebrimbor proudly showed off his creation: a tall, fat paper cylinder that sat perched on some sort of metal stick. A candle wick protruded from the bottom and it was decorated with flared, stiff paper wings on the sides. “This would be more visible after dark, but it is based on the principle that different metal salts burn different colors. You’ll have to ask King Gil-galad if this could be used in battlefields to help coordinate maneuvers. I think the overall affect is quite pretty.”

Elrond and Erestor, long survivors of Celebrimbor’s experiments, took in the various Gwaith-i-Mirdain members with buckets of water, and the fact that many were wearing their forge gear, and backed up an additional thirty feet as Celebrimbor brought out a lit candle and lit the string hanging from the cylinder.

Glorfindel backed up so that he was standing as a barricade in front of Erestor and Elrond, and turned back to Celebrimbor. He said, “So, how do metals make pretty colors when burnt?”

Celebrimbor smiled widely, “That is a complex question, it has to do with-“

The cylinder exploded, knocking down everyone in the near vicinity with a shockwave and hail of burning paper.

The resulting fires were quickly put out by the Gwaith-i-Mirdain standing by, but Glorfindel lost some hair when a piece of burning paper caught in a braid. He was otherwise unharmed: he had remembered about rolling to put out fire and about half of the Gwaith-i-Mirdain had rushed over with buckets. Elrond was currently treating Celebrimbor (standing much closer) for various burns and a concussion along with a few other unlucky burn victims. The entire area smelled of burnt sulfur. 

Erestor wasn’t certain his hearing would ever be the same.

When Erestor had collected mate, comb, and scissors from the Healing Hall, Celebrimbor had been muzzily explaining to Elrond that, “The principle is sound, and we’ve managed to isolate the most potent combination of ingredients to burn with the best efficiency. But as you can see we are still working on methods of propulsion.” 

They chose the bench under the big sycamore trees in the main park at Ost-in-Edhil. Erestor carried the comb, scissors and a towel. Glorfindel simply squelched along watching his feet. When he got to the bench he stretched himself out facedown with a depressed sigh, arms hanging limp off either edge.

Erestor said, “Glorfindel…. Sit up, I don’t think this will come out if you are lying there like that.”

He was answered by another depressed sigh, and Glorfindel heaving himself upright into a sad slouch. Erestor eyed the ends of the wavy gold hair. “I am going to have to cut about 12 inches on the right side to get the burnt ends off. Do you want me to just cut the right, or even it up across the bottom?”

Glorfindel turned to look at his mate and Erestor grabbed his head and turned it straight. “And if you wiggle it won’t turn out straight at all,” he grumbled. 

“Can you make it straight across the bottom? I think it would look silly uneven.” Glorfindel sighed and sagged a little more, listing to one side as Erestor tried to grab the end of his braids.

“I can make it straight-“ he grabbed Glorfindel’s ears and pulled straight up. “-if you don’t make the whole job harder-“ he yanked harder and Glorfindel jerked upright with a yelp. “-sagging over like a half filled wineskin,” he finished. 

Glorfindel simply sighed and Erestor relented a little, leaning forward and kissing the wet top of Glorfindel’s head before beginning to unpick the braids and brush his hair out. Finally, Glorfindel said, “Celebrimbor said ‘pretty colors’. Not loud, smelly explosions.”

Erestor chuckled before he said, “It was the Gwaith-i-Mirdain, so it was a predictable outcome.”

He combed a little longer, getting knots out before he spoke down their bond, _“Are you okay? That was a little too loud for me and you were closer.”_

Glorfindel leaned back into his waist and Erestor hugged him and laughed, “We both smell like sulfur and burnt hair. Let’s go to the bathhouse after this before we offend someone.”

Glorfindel twisted to stare up at Erestor with the first tentative smile he’d had since the explosion. “I don’t want to sound too vain-“

“Too late.”

“-but do you know how to actually cut hair? I’ve never done more than trim the very tips to even it up again.”

“I’m better at it than Elrond at least.”

“Better than Elrond? What sort of a scale is that? Does that mean ‘at least I won’t cut off your ears’? Or, ‘I’m pretty good’?”

Erestor began brushing again. “If you sit still while I do this, would you like to know how I learned to cut hair?”

Glorfindel froze in place, staring straight ahead across the park in a fairly fixed manner. “I’ll do my best.”

***

The Twins had been with Gil-galad for almost fifteen years. In the that time they had both gained about one inch in height. It was becoming fairly obvious that Elros and Elrond would be of average height for one of the Edain, which meant rather short for an Elf. 

Erestor hadn’t really changed, at least not to his mind. 

The situation had started to stabilize and they were currently living in the construction zone that would eventually become the Palace at Lindon. After dinner Erestor had a few errands and he arrived in the spacious wood walled tent they called home to discover two very sheepish elflings. 

He walked in and Elros said, “Elrond did it. I mean I asked him to, but he’s still the one that did it.” He was curled up on his bed, well under the covers. 

Never a promising start to a conversation with the Twins. Anything that had them regressing to sounding like a pair of 10 year olds had to be bad. 

Before he could ask what Elrond had done, Elrond said, “I told you I’m sorry! It’s harder than it looks! And every time I tried to make it straight it just went weirder.” He was sitting at their little worktable, clutching the broom. 

Erestor took a deep breath. “Okay, so what did Elrond do?”

Elrond cried, “I told you I’m sorry! It’s a lot different than sewing or doing stitches on people! I think the scissors must bend!”

The muffled voice of Elros responded, “I told you, I’m not mad. I just don’t know what to do next.”

Erestor thought, _“Ah, scissors were involved.”_ The Valar only knew what the Twins had done with the scissors but neither sounded actually physically damaged and nothing was on fire this time. Out loud and a little more firmly he said, “Elros? Come out and sit at the table.” 

As Elrond started to move he continued, “Elrond, stay right there. Whatever it is you did I suspect I’m going to need both of you for the explanation.”

Actually, no explanation was needed at all when Elros came out from under the blanket. Erestor worked hard at keeping his face neutrally blank (rather than a deepening frown) as he surveyed the brand new ragged bangs, and hair that now sloped up towards Elros’ shoulder at an acute angle across his back. 

The elfling tried to flatten his new bangs into cooperation and sniffed, clearly on the edge of tears. Elrond leapt up, ran over and crawled into the bed next to his twin. “Elros, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do a bad job,” he sniffed. 

Erestor sighed, yet another minor crisis in the House of Elrond. After this many years he has gotten good at crisis management. He walked over, sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled Elros and Elrond into a hug. “Don’t cry, you’re okay.”

“Are we in trouble?” Trying to convince the Twins that Maedhros and Maglor had not abandoned them for misbehavior had turned out to be an uphill battle. When it had come to light that the Vingilote had come and gone from Middle Earth, even landing in the Valar encampment for several meetings with the major elf lords, it had gotten worse. Elrond in particular was always concerned that Erestor would leave next. 

All Erestor could do was shower them with affection and try to give them a sense of security. (He would be the first to admit that he is bad at the whole concept of displaying affection, but he was practicing on the Twins.)

“Hmm….” Erestor answered. “With me? Not at all, it’s your hair after all and you may style it as you choose. With Elros? Doesn’t sound like it. It sounds like this was poor planning on both your parts.”

Elros’ voice was now muffled by Erestor’s rib cage. “I told you, I’m not mad. It was just harder than we thought.” Elros still had the habit of squashing himself against Erestor when upset. 

“Come out Elros, if you sit at the table I’ll see what I can do.” Erestor’s last haircutting adventure had been his own when it was grabbed during a raid, and he had simply let it grow out again until it could be trimmed on the bottom. He is certain that he can’t do WORSE than Elrond though. 

His first tentative snips at the bottom of Elros’ hair proved that he was well in over his head. Maybe he should have tried with his knives rather than the scissors? Turning to the two tearful elflings he said, “I’m going to go get an expert to help. Promise you won’t try to fix this before I get back?” The last thing they need is further inexpert attempts at fixing what has ridiculously easily become a ragged “W” shape across Elros’ back.

They nodded and he hugged each again before marching out into the early evening. King Gil-galad was probably the most likely person to consult on this one. 

When he approached the King’s tent he was immediately allowed entrance. As caretaker of the Twins, Gil-galad had left instructions that he was always to be given immediate audiences. A few of the courtiers had screamed in horror, but Gil-galad had (for once) blithely waved off their complaints. 

Gil-galad was sitting with a group of contractors, going over the building progress for the new town of Lindon and objectives for the next day. He looked up with a smile. “You look grim, but not the sort of grim that indicates fires, imminent disaster or insurrection. What have the Twins done now?”

Erestor rolled his eyes. King Gil-galad found most of the antics of the Twins hysterically funny, even while he and Erestor were doling out punishment duties. “An ill-advised haircut, Your Majesty. Elros decided that Elrond should do the styling. I’ve never cut hair so I’m not sure how to fix this one.”

“Short hair is not something we do as a people….” Gil-galad frowned in thought and then turned to the contractors. “Sirs, do you mind if I step out for a moment?”

There were a few minutes of organization and questions before Gil-galad could leave the contractors but soon he and Erestor were strolling off through the massive camp. “Your Majesty, do you have a solution in mind?”

Gil-galad grinned. “Elves and dwarves don’t cut their hair as a rule but the Edain do! I think the Edain we want is the Horse Captain of the Numenoreans.”

“Why them? Are they an expert in hair?” Erestor could easily see why a Man would make sense, but why specifically the Horse Captain?

“He has very stylish hair according to the other Edain. If he can’t trim Elros’ hair, I’m sure he’ll tell us who can.”

The Horse Captain was a heavily muscled Man, with gray streaked dark brown hair cut in a shaggy style that hung around his face. What struck Erestor was his impressive mustache. Other than on dwarves, Erestor had rarely seen facial hair before and this mustache was waxed into a marvel of points and curls. The Horse Captain bowed when he saw the two elves, “Your Majesty, how can I help you this fine evening?”

Gil-galad smiled, “Just a little informal favor this evening.” He gestured Erestor forward, “This is Master Erestor, Steward of the House of Elrond, he has a minor problem that hopefully you can help solve.”

As Gil-galad spoke, the Horse Captain was waving them into his tent and onto a rough bench by a lit fire bowl. His wife was already measuring out tea into the pot and getting out a bowl of dried fruit. They drank tea and chatted about the new settlement for a few minutes before the Horse Captain said, “Master Erestor, you apparently have a problem?”

Erestor quickly outlined Elros’ desire for a haircut, and Elrond’s disastrous attempt, finishing with, “And so, if you could teach me how to cut hair I would deeply appreciate it.”

At the full story, the Horse Captain and his wife laughed. She said, “Oh Sirs, most children of Men do the same at one point or another. As a small child, I myself once cut off all of my little sister’s hair so short she was forced to wear a hood to prevent sunburn!”

The Horse Captain snickered. “Not such little children either. While courting, my elder brother attempted to cut his own to much the same effect as Elros’ current look. My wife, do you mind?”

“Not at all.” As she spoke she picked up her sewing basket. “It is very hard to cut your own hair; I always do my husband’s.”

He smiled, “But I do my own mustache.”

The wife of the Horse Captain obviously thought Elrond and Elros were adorable (they were at that “almost adult height, but too skinny and all hands, feet and elbows stage of growing”) and just barely managed not to laugh looking at Elros’ hair. Elros and Elrond looked a little more cheerful as she smiled sweetly and informed them it was a fixable problem. 

She moved at a brisk pace about their tent, putting a lamp closer, finding a basin of water and a comb before gently pushing Elros into the chair. Then, she knelt down in front of the elfling and said, “Dear, how did you want your hair to look? I can try and correct it to that way.”

Elros gulped and started to explain. When he was done, she smiled gently and said, “I can do that.” Adopting a more business like tone, she said, “Master Erestor, I will explain as I go. That way you can trim his hair in the future. If it is like the hair of Men, you’ll have to do it once a month or so lest it lose its shape.”

With that she carefully began wetting and brushing the straight black hair, explaining as she went.

***

As Erestor talked, he had been carefully working on Glorfindel’s hair. The waves in his hair made it harder to cut perfectly straight but at least damp it wasn’t trying to spring away from the comb. He carefully ran it through his fingers, pausing at the end of a lock to even it up with a tidy snip of the scissors. 

“So you cut Elros’ hair?” Glorfindel sounded like he was starting to relax and cheer up under the gentle motions of having his hair tended. 

Erestor chuckled. “Elrond’s too. He wanted to try short hair, but decided he didn’t like it and let it grow out again.”

He fluffed up the drying hair, massaging Glorfindel’s scalp lightly with his fingers before combing it down flat again to check for stray long ends. It is shorter than it has been for decades, but looks much better. “There, done.” He leaned forward and kissed Glorfindel’s temple. “We still smell like burnt hair and sulfur, let’s go get that bath.”


End file.
